


Binding Spells

by Cluegirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-09
Updated: 2010-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron witness the extents Madam Pince must go to for her treasured collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Binding Spells

"Hush!" The librarian hissed, heels clacking fiercely along the corridor.

He cursed and wriggled, but couldn't escape her iron grip. "Dare not tell me 'hush', Witch! I'll not hush! Unfasten this chain! Unhand me at once!"

"The chain's for your own good!" she gave him a savage pinch just as he'd almost managed to drag free. "AND for the good of the children, I might add," she glared over her prim spectacles, "Just what did you think you were doing in the Slytherin Boy's dormitory, anyway?"

"Never hurts to make new friends," he sniffed.

Her lips quirked, but the knowing glint in her eye didn't fade. "New friends indeed, underage boys, you old pervert!"

"Old enough for my tastes," he chuckled, remembering young Draco's nimble fingers and the way his tongue peeked through his rosy lips when those mercurial eyes narrowed in concentration, "Why in the Old Days, a boy like that would have been just ripe for the-"

"Oh, belt up!" She cut him off, cheeks pinking as she gave his collar a twist, "You're lucky it was me who found you, you know. The Headmaster would have hexed you to bits if you'd really convinced that boy to run away with you. And you don't want to KNOW what Professor Snape would have done if he'd found you corrupting his favourite student!"

"Oh trust me," he leered, "THAT one's not his favourite! And anyway -- I was just going to show the boys a couple of pictures. Etchings are a long-neglected art form, you know. Very little appreciated these days - OW! Blast and damn you, woman!" He yelped as her palm slapped hard across his face, "What did you do that for?"

"Because that's what shameless lechery earns you in this civilized day and age," she sniffed, taking the stairs two at a time so his chains rattled and chimed. "This is a _School_, I remind you, not a brothel! If you cannot differentiate between the two, then you've no one to blame for the consequences but yourself!"

"I'LL give you school," he hissed, "I'LL give you learning! I'll give you all learning such as will rattle loose your withered, whimpering souls! I'll chew up your little rules and spit them back in your faces, I will! You think you can subdue me? I've wrought the downfall of Witches and Wizards whose very names would make your hair crawl right off! Sibyl the Collector, I outwitted! Who are you to her?" He roared, jerking and twisting as the giant oaken doors of his prison loomed near, "La Voisin couldn't hold me! The Mad Monk neither -- a-hah!" He managed a lucky wriggle as she paused to open the door, and leapt away, only to find himself drawn up gagging-short by the chain. He tumbled gracelessly down the marble steps and lay at the bottom, groaning.

"And _that's_ why you're bound in the collar," the librarian drawled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, "Now are you coming nicely, or shall I just drag you along behind?"

He wriggled back out of her reach, glowering. "You wouldn't _dare_!"

Thirty stairs, twelve oaken chair legs, five bookcases, three study carrels, and roughly a hundred yards of _very_ scratchy carpeting later, he was bruised, chaffed, dizzy, bleeding from a rather spectacular friction burn, and more than ready to admit that she did, in fact, dare. He'd run out of colourful invective on the first flight of stairs, and by the time she stopped before the iron-gated restricted section, he found his vocabulary narrowed to words of only four or five letters at best.

The librarian, on the other hand, didn't seem particularly moved by his abuse, which was, perhaps, what made him fall silent when she fixed him with a semi-amused glance.   
"I really am quite disappointed, you know," she hauled him onto the ink-spangled worktable with a practiced heave, then secured his chain to the wall, "I'd really hoped we might come to an understanding without resorting to this."

"Understanding. Bah!" he grumbled as she rummaged in a cabinet, "You've nothing to offer! Milquetoast academics! Prunelike, sexless, juiceless old hags! What are you doing?" He demanded when she did not rise to his goad.

By way of answer, she turned around and began laying out the tools; a forceps ending in a splayed triangle, a dusty pot of salve, a silver ring with a break in it, and a length of delicate silver chain, and a wickedly sharp awl. This last, she ran through the candle flame until it glowed red, then set it carefully aside and pulled on a pair of long gloves, black, glistening, and so tight as to seem painted on her white skin.

"No…!"

"As I've said," she smiled as his horror dawned, "you've only yourself to blame. Thrice this month, you've come unleashed, and this time, you came entirely too close to escaping for my liking." She stroked a surprisingly gentle hand across his goose-prickled skin, the glove gliding over the fine hairs like a whisper. "Don't worry love, you're not the first to need this sort of attention from me," the librarian's voice smoothed toward a purr, and she undid her collar with long, nimble fingers, "I know how to make it very good for you. Better than you could imagine."

His nerve broke, and he snapped at her face, howling and lunging against his chain. "You're mad, woman! I'll hex your hide off if you lay a finger on me!"

She cried out, reeling back as he bashed her across the cheek.

He twisted against the collar, feeling it creak and tear, skin bruising underneath, but she was faster than he, and despite her looks, stronger as well. She scruffed him hard, and before he could do more than yelp, be found himself shoved face down, spread-eagled on the table and pinned under her powerful thighs.

"Of course, if you prefer rougher play," she continued, husky-voiced and panting lightly from the struggle, "I can accommodate you there as well."

He felt and heard her fling her robes away, but couldn't manage more than muttered curses. Her fingers went back to teasing; focusing on his bruises, burns and scrapes this time, stoking the pain higher instead of soothing it away, winding it tighter against his spine as he arched and wriggled against her humid thighs.

But just as he was about to scream for mercy, one of her long, warm fingers trailed down the bottom of his spine to burrow into his cleft. He surged up against her, howling as the torment abruptly flared into pleasure.

"See now?" she cooed, grinding against him, overwhelming his senses with her heat and weight, and the salty, heady smell of her sex, "didn't I promise? And we've only just begun." She gave that finger another delightful wriggle, and he could only manage a wanton mewl.

* * *

 

"Ron, wake up!" Harry hissed, clapping a hand over his friend's mouth as he hauled him down under the table in a bruising sprawl of elbows and knees and restricted texts. He held on long enough to be sure Ron would stay silent, then he ducked out to douse the candle and snatch the invisibility cloak off the table.

"How long was I-" Ron began, kneeling. Harry waved him quiet, casting a silencing spell on the table around them. The voices were turning away -- a man, angry and shouting, a woman, soothing but cold. Ron let Harry pull him close under the cloak without a fight.

"I fell asleep too," Harry explained, "it's probably way past curfew by now!"

"Great," Ron yawned, "Hermione's going to chew my ear off for this."

Harry licked the ear in question. "Only if we get caught and _don't_ bring her this '_Laga Till Med Onda Sprit_' tonight! Her report, her errand, remember?"

Ron shivered into his caress, all rangy muscle and quivering, sleepy heat, so Harry had no choice but to wind his arms up under Ron's jumper. He hissed and pressed back, and Harry moaned to feel nipples hardening under his palms. That might have started them off again -- it took little more these days -- but the angry voices behind the stacks reminded them both of the danger.

"Her errand. Right." Ron panted, giving his hips one last roll against Harry's bulging fly before grabbing the book, "How could I forget? Stupid Muggle measles!"

Harry nodded, wrapped the book in the ward-grounding cloth his godfather had given him and slipped it into his book bag, "Let's get out of here then." _So I can rip off your clothes in a proper dorm bed instead of a library floor! _

Ron understood completely, and shouldered the bag so Harry could take the lantern and the lead. The voices were coming from the just inside the gate to the restricted section, and for a moment, he worried that Madame Pince and whomever she was arguing with might be actually be blocking their escape. But as they drew closer, Harry could see the way was clear -- whatever the confrontation was, it seemed to be taking place in the little office just by the exit. And what was more, it seemed that Madame Pince had left the gate unlocked when she'd come in! With a little luck, the librarian would be so absorbed in her guest, she'd never even notice them making off with her book.

With conditioning born of far too many brushes with death and negative house points, Harry and Ron ghosted toward the gate.

"What the devil are you doing?" A low, hoarse voice froze Harry in his tracks. "you can't just stop now!" Ron's hand clamped on his shoulder, and he whimpered in Harry's ear.

"Patience, Pet, I'll take care of you."

Could that purring, husky voice really have been Madame Pince? Harry let Ron haul him around to stare through the office's open door, and immediately felt his jaw drop open and every drop of blood in his body rush straight to his cock.

It was indeed Madame Pince, as he had never, ever imagined she could look under those prim, tweedy Librarian's robes; breasts rising pale, full, peaked over the top of a shiny black satin corset that ran like gleaming armour down to her hips. Long, shiny gloves covered her arms, and stockings like black smoke shimmered over her legs. Surely her legs hadn't been that long when she'd let them into the library earlier that evening!

Harry gulped, and heard Ron do the same behind him as Madame Pince _Madame Pince_!! climbed off the huge book she had splayed on the table, leaving a glossy smear all the way down its spine. A thick leather strap across the book's middle twitched against her arm as she pulled two fingers out of the gap under the spine. Harry and Ron both jumped to hear a man's deep, heartfelt groan.

"Please!" The book gave a shudder, as if humping the empty air. She smiled indulgently over her spectacles, and stroked one hand through the wet spot while the other worked the leather flange of its lock cover, pumping, stroking, stretching it like a cock as the book whimpered even louder.

"Merlin!" Ron's breath tickled Harry's ear, made him shove back against the erection he knew would be there, "She's-"

"With a _book_!" Harry agreed in the same near-silence, wondering if he should be more horrified at what he was seeing, or at how incredibly _hard_ it got him. He brought one hand to his straining fly, only to bump knuckles with Ron. Okay then, as long as he wasn't the only pervert in the room! He wriggled his hips against Ron's belly and tried not to moan.

"Now then," Madame Pince said, letting up her stroking now that the lock flange was poking out straight from the book's cover, "You've been quite naughty this evening, wouldn't you agree?"

"I was written naughty, _Katschen_!"

"Exactly." She picked up a narrow leather belt, and snapped it smartly between her hands, "And such dissolution deserves punishment. You shall have one stripe for every five chapters you have. You will keep count, and you will not spend before I give you leave!"

The book growled, but somehow Harry didn't think it was really unhappy with the idea. Maybe from the way its back hunched up off the table as she sauntered around it, raining merciless blows. He reached back to release Ron's cock, light-headedly horny, and enthralled by the sight. He pressed the rigid heat into his cleft, rocking desperately as the book howled and cursed and counted, and Ron fisted his cock in time to the belt's sharp kisses.

Even Madame Pince was panting and flushed by the time they'd reached twenty, and the book's 'erection' never wilted. "Now then…" the librarian murmured, gripping the lock-flange in one hand, and quickly snapping something long and silver onto the end. The book shrieked and Harry sucked his breath as the sound reached down into his balls and snapped them tight and hard against his cock.

A second later, she jabbed an awl through the straining leather and slipped a silver ring through the hole. Then she took the clamp off, and her black shiny fingers stroked the whimpering book. Up and down its spine, circling its cleft, smoothing its welted covers while the other hand curled around that still-hard strap of leather and stroked, and stroked, and stroked.

"Oh sweet Merlin, Harry!" Ron breathed, shaking and jerking against him as the book's groans became desperate and needy once more, "I'm gonna-"

"Don't you dare!" Madame Pince's voice scared both boys back from the edge, but she only gave the book a teasing slap. "You'll come when I give you leave, sir!"

Then she climbed back onto the table, garter straps digging into her milky white arse as she straddled the book and lowered herself onto that pierced and straining lock clasp. Her body made a wet, hungry sound as inch by inch, she took the whole thing inside her, and began to ride, chanting in a singsong undertone as the book grunted and cursed.

_God! I'm not going to last!_ Harry thought, chewing his lip desperately as Ron's thumb smeared slick precome across his cockhead. Managing a final shred of willpower, Harry pulled away, pressed Ron's long, curved cock down past his neglected hole, to nudge his balls from behind. Ron's fingers spasmed around him as Harry closed his thighs and rubbed his knees together, and he was very glad that book was making so much noise, because he was sure they both groaned aloud.

_Shh! OhGod!_ Harry fumbled Ron's other hand out of his shirt, and crammed the knuckles into his mouth. Ron, thinking along the same lines, stopped his own cries with a mouthful of Harry's shoulder, right through the school jumper. By unspoken agreement, or maybe gravitational pull, they matched their own thrusts to hers, rutting faster and faster in a welter of tight and slick and sweat-damp heat, of thumbs and thighs and grinding teeth and fire braiding up the spine like an inexorable lightning strike.

"Merlin, Yes! Now you old bastard! Now!" Madame Pince cried, arching backward to bury two fingers in the book, and another two in her own arse. The phantasmagorical book roared like a bear, and actually heaved them both up off the table as it came.

Ron stiffened, swore, and then come blasted hot and hard against the back of Harry's bollocks. And then he was coming too, cock pulsing and heart pounding, lungs burning and ears roaring with blood and sex and magic.

* * *

Snape paused on the threshold of the librarian's office, frowning. He was sure he'd heard voices up here. The torches were lit, a book and restoration tools abandoned on the worktable, but where the devil had the woman got to? A rustle from behind the escritoire drew his attention, and he coughed.

"Oh!" Pince darted out into the room, face flushed and wet, mousy hair waving loose about her shoulders. Her normally high-buttoned robes gaped at throat and wrist. Behind her, Snape could see a tiny washroom. "Severus! Whatever is the matter?"

He frowned at the use of his name, but she didn't seem to notice. "I find myself in need of the Book Bound in Pale Leather," he intoned, wondering what that half-familiar smell tickling the back of his nose could be. _Glue I suppose,_ he sniffed as she raised an eyebrow, _she's got a bit there on her face as well, hasn't she?_ "It's… for a potion. You said it would be available tonight."

"Why so I did," her sanguine reply as she waved one hand at the rather mauve-ish, mottled tome which was snoring on the worktable, "I've just now finished repairing its binding, in fact."

He glowered. "That is NOT pale leather!"

Unaccountably, she blushed. "It will be by morning. It's just he's had a bit of a rough night is all." She gathered up the quietly snoring book, smoothing its cover as if it were some sort of ridiculous pet. "Bless you," she added distractedly, trailing a finger along her exposed clavicle.

Severus blinked. "Whatever for?"

"Didn't you sneeze?" He shook his head, and she shrugged as something rustled out in the darkened stacks. "Mice again, most likely. You'd think with all the cats in this castle…Ah well." She handed him the book, stifled a yawn, and turned back to the washroom, and the stairs he could now see just beside it. "Goodnight then, Severus. Do let me know how your potion comes out, won't you?"

He only glowered as she disappeared up the stairs in a rustle of tweed, and the candles winking out around him hinted that he oughtn't linger. He wondered if the librarian realized that she'd spattered glue all over her robes, then supposed she must be used to such stains.

Book binding did seem a messy task, after all.

 

~Fin~


End file.
